


Bruised and Scarred

by Lopithecus



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Justice League: Doom, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Clark is a sweetheart, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 11:56:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lopithecus/pseuds/Lopithecus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being buried alive beside his father's corpse has a big effect on Bruce and the only one who can comfort him is Clark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bruised and Scarred

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not that good at writing smut and even though I’ve written it before, it’s still extremely awkward to do so. Hopefully it’s not too bad though.
> 
> Also, I wrote this because of this scene in the Justice League: Doom movie: [X](http://angelcamael.tumblr.com/post/126917927373/justice-league-doom-bruce-wayne-being-buried)
> 
> Gifs are mine and the Tumblr is mine.
> 
> Hope you enjoy. :)

The Legion of Doom had been surprised to see the Justice League arrive at their headquarters, thinking that they succeeded in killing them. They’re first mistake was not checking to make sure they really died. They should have stayed, watched as each Justice League member’s life slipped out from under them and once they were out, the villains should have went to their bodies and checked for a pulse. Never leave someone you intend to kill lying there dying before knowing whether or not they are actually dead. Their second mistake was using Batman’s contingency plans to take out the Justice League and since they failed to kill them because of mistake number one, they neglected to take into account that Batman would have some kind of contingency plan for his contingency plan.

And so, here they are, fighting a battle they wouldn’t be battling if it weren’t for the stolen plans, each member of the Justice League fighting their respectful nemesis that tried to screw them over. Wonder Woman has Cheetah, Green Lantern has Star Sapphire, J’onn is fighting Ma'alefa'ak, Flash fighting Mirror Master, Superman battling Metallo, and Batman, well Batman is battling Bane while Cyborg tries to get around Savage in order to stop the missile from launching. Batman can hear the noise around him, the chaos that is going on, can see his surroundings like it’s plain as day but right now, right now he has to focus on Bane because it was Bane who buried him. Bane is the one who _dared_ defile his parents’ graves and throw him in next to his dead, decayed father like he was some toy that had been broken from overuse and was no longer logical to keep around. He decided on his own with some help from Savage that would be the best way to get rid of Batman, to get rid of _Bruce Wayne_ , billionaire orphan who has parent issues and trust issues and a whole slew of other issues that, if Bruce really thinks about it, he should have gotten help for a long time ago. But it’s too late for that, Bruce knows, and he’s pissed. Pissed at his parents for leaving him behind at such a young age, pissed at Bane for what he did to him, to _them_ , pissed at his mind that just won’t get over and move on from his parents’ demise and stop the nightmares that keep haunting him, pissed at the whole damn _world_.

And he needs to take it out on something, anything, anyone and Bane is as good a target as any. So he punches and he kicks, jumps and avoids blows that Bane aims for his head, neck, back, anywhere on his body that he can try to break him again. He jumps out of the way once again to avoid a grab that would have probably broken his arm but, as big as Bane is, he’s also fast. He manages to grab onto Batman anyways and throws him into some wooden crates so forcibly that they break under Batman’s impact. Bane jumps in order to land on him and drill him into the ground and Batman has to act fast, always act fast, and jump backwards to dodge the blow. Bane was expecting that, anticipating that, and as soon as his feet hit the ground he launches himself back at Batman and rams into his midsection only for Batman’s back to slam against a book shelf and Bane’s hands slide to his neck. Bane lifts him up, Batman feeling the impact his head makes with the wood of the bookshelf but Bane is so strong that he manages to make sure it breaks away and Batman’s head goes through it. His hands tighten around Batman’s neck and Batman has no choice but to throw a batarang and he watches where he hangs as it comes back and slices through the tubes that are connected to Bane’s back and head. Batman lifts his legs and kicks the man away with both feet, putting as much force behind it as he can. He watches as Bane stumbles back and falls to his knees, no doubt already starting to feel weak. Batman runs forward and when he’s close enough he propels himself into a Webster front flip, landing his foot on the top of Bane’s head. Bane hits the ground with a loud thud.

In any normal circumstance, this would have been enough for Batman but he can’t get his father’s skull out of his head and he feels the rage built inside him growing. Without thinking, without any thought except his parents’ dug up graves, Batman flips Bane onto his back and straddles his midsection. When his fist comes down and onto Bane’s face, there’s a crunch and Batman knows he’s already breaking bones under that mask. He keeps hitting him, the graves being dug up flashing before him, hitting over and over, his father’s face, the skull, the hollow eyes not leaving his memory, and over again, the _suffocating, stifling_ coffin that he is buried in still being felt on his skin. _He was buried with his father, his father, his father who is dead, who died a long time ago, but he’s, he’s_ -

And Bruce never wanted to see him like that, never wanted to see his parents as bones, buried six feet under the ground, with hollow eyes that are now going to haunt him. He hears someone yelling, doesn’t realize it’s him. “How dare you!” And he keeps punching and punching. “They were my parents! My parents!”

“Batman stop, you’re going to kill him.” But he doesn’t listen to the new voice that joins in with his, doesn’t even register Wonder Woman’s worried tone.

He’s breathing heavily. “How could you do that to them?” His fist slams against crushed bone again. “How could-” His voice croaks and he hadn’t even realized that he is crying until now.

“Batman!” A hand grabs his wrist as his hand comes up again but Batman pulls it out of its loose grasp, so loose that it was almost as if whoever owned the hand was afraid to hurt him or he would hurt himself by trying to wrench his arm free. Batman brings that now free hand back down for another sickening bash of the head.

“How could-” He keeps saying over and over again, his father’s skull just not leave his head, why won’t it just go away instead of swimming in his vision? “How could-”

“Batman stop!” And arms are around him, holding him tightly, holding his arms down so he can no longer punch the man, the _monster_ , who is underneath him to a bloody pulp. “Bruce stop.” It’s whispered in his ear, mouth close so only he can hear it, but it’s enough to make his world stop, to blow the images of his father, of the graves, of his mother, _his poor mother_ , out from his vision. Clark is there with his arms wrapped around Batman lovingly, tightly enough to stop him but not tight enough to hurt him. “Bruce stop, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.” Clark’s voice, soothing in his ear and Bruce shudders as he slumps in his protective arms, panting and shaking. His heart feels like it’s going to jump out of his chest and the tears are still silently falling. He’s tired, he’s so tired from the exertion of what he had just done, but there’s no time for that as Cyborg yells that he can’t stop the missile.

The missile is launched and everybody who is standing around Batman, every single member of the Justice League, turns their head from him to the missile. Batman is the only one who doesn’t. “Superman,” Wonder Woman says with alarm, knowing the danger of what that missile can do if it reaches the sun.

Superman turns back to Batman, squeezes him tighter and whispers, “Are you going to be okay?” He doesn’t answer because he can’t think straight. _Get a hold of yourself Batman!_ “Batman!” Louder, attention grabbing, and Superman shakes him a little.

He snaps out of it, looks to where everyone is standing there watching the two of them. He pulls free of Superman’s embrace and stands up, putting on a scowl that takes just a little too much effort. _My goodness is he tired_. “What are you just standing here for? We have a missile to stop.” Batman turns away, wipes the tears that managed to slip past the cowl, and hears Superman fly off to try and stop the missile. Green Lantern follows him and from then on everything is a blur. He goes through the motions, tries to focus, but he’d be lying if he said he remembered what happened during the time they had to save the Earth. He can only recall certain bits and pieces, like using the Legion of Doom’s headquarters to protect the Earth by letting the solar flare pass right through it. When he realizes that he has only a little memory of the whole thing, he’s too tired to care.

Later, during the meeting to welcome Cyborg to the Justice League and whether or not Batman should stay on the team, he defends himself. He will die before he lets Bane make him doubt himself of his plans. The whole of Justice League is angry at him for his defense of his contingency plan, even Superman it would seem, but he doesn’t care that they’re mad. He can’t stand their ignorance of the potential danger that they could be if they were to ever go rogue. Batman decides to quit the team instead of waiting for a vote that he doesn’t need to hear, telling them that he would do it again and that he doesn’t belong in the team if they disagree on this matter.

When he’s in the main hanger at the console, inputting the settings in order for him to teleport back to Earth, Superman walks in. “Got a minute?”

Batman looks at him, notes how calm and relaxed his voice sounds, almost to the point of sorrowful yet sympathetic at the same time. Batman turns away. “What do you want?”

“You made contingency plans to stop everyone in the League just in case any one of us ever went bad.” Superman walks toward him as he talks and Batman can feel his eyes on him.

He continues to input information into the console. “My contingencies were intended to immobilize, not kill.”

“But Savage came up with the plan to bury you.” He reaches him now and Batman can’t make himself meet his eyes. He wants to go home and try to get some sleep, though he’s doubtful he’ll get any.

Batman answers even though it wasn’t a question. “I assume so, it wasn’t one of mine.” He finally looks at him, steeling himself to not give away any emotions. “Was that it?”

Superman’s eyebrows knit together slightly. “With all that about unshared power you’re still so arrogant you didn’t bother to come up with a plan to stop yourself.”

He still sounds calm even though Batman can tell he’s annoyed and a little angry. He stares at him, thinking about what to tell him and finally settles on the truth. “I do have a plan; it’s called the Justice League.”

A smile breaks out on Superman’s face and all his features relax. “Just wanted to be sure.”

Batman watches as Superman sticks his hand out and uncurls his fist. When his hand is open, there is a white box sitting in his palm. “What is it?”

“If the League ever did go over to the wrong side, I want there to be somebody I can trust to keep the planet safe.” Batman reaches for the box and takes it into his own hands. When he opens it he understands. “Even from me.” There’s a small piece of Kryptonite in the box and it glows within such close proximity to the Kryptonian. He caps the box and then walks over to the teleportation pad. Looking back at Superman as Superman presses the teleport button, he sees a smile on his face. He doesn’t smile back but he knows Superman knows he’s grateful for the gesture of trust.

As soon as he’s home, he goes to find the real groundskeeper and makes sure he is okay. He finds him with Alfred, being taken care of by the butler. Alfred tells him he absolutely refused to go to the hospital and decided to wait for Bruce’s return. When he sees the billionaire, he jumps to his feet and begins to apologize profusely. “I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne.” His accent is thick. “I don’t know what happened. All of a sudden something hit me on the head and I was out cold.”

Bruce puts his hands up to quell the man. “It’s alright, Mr. Mendoza. I don’t hold you responsible, this wasn’t your fault. Please you must go to the doctors to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

“But, please Sir, allow me to fix the graves first. I feel terribly guilty about it,” he pleads and Bruce is too tired to argue so he acquiesces.

It’s still raining and he really doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Mr. Mendoza to be doing this in the rain and with a possible concussion, so he stands by and watches. He wants to make sure that if something happens that he is there to get him medical attention right away. He doesn’t feel the presence behind him until there are arms gingerly wrapping around him and under Bruce’s arms. They pull him closer to the body that is just behind him and a head is rested on his left shoulder. “Are you okay?” Clark asks and he doesn’t respond aloud, the silence being an answer in and of itself. A kiss is pressed to the side of his neck in a comforting manner and the arms tighten. “They weren’t going to vote for you to leave you know? None of them wanted you gone.” He pecks his neck again. “I don’t want you gone.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally speaks, his voice sounding rugged and tired. “They’re too angry to understand the danger of a bad Justice League and I don’t need that.”

Clark shrugs, keeping his head rested on his shoulders. “I don’t think they’re mad that you have plans to stop us, I think they’re mad that you didn’t tell us you had them. I’m even angry about that, Bruce.”

He’s getting angry again and he tries to pull away but Clark doesn’t allow him. “Well, they wouldn’t be much use if you knew about them and could plan on how to avoid getting caught in such a trap.”

He hears Clark sigh, right next to his ear and he has to stop himself from shivering at the blow of breath that hit him. Silence fills the air as they both stand there watching the groundskeeper. After awhile, Clark says quietly, “They’ll get over it.” Silence falls upon them again except for the sound of the rain and the heavy breathing of the groundskeeper. At some point, Clark lets go of him and begins to massage his shoulders. “He has a concussion you know.”

“I figured.” He walks out of Clark’s skilled hands and gets closer to Mr. Mendoza. “Mr. Mendoza, that’s good enough. Now please, I insist you go to the hospital. With a blow to the head like that, you can have a serious concussion. I’ll even have Alfred drive you.”

“Oh no Sir, please, I can drive myself.” Mr. Mendoza sticks the shovel into the ground and peels his soaked gloves off his hands.

Bruce gets up even closer so he doesn’t have to yell over the pounding rain. “That’s quite alright, Mr. Mendoza, Alfred will be glad to drive you. I don’t want you to be behind a wheel if you do have a concussion. You could hurt yourself or someone else.”

The groundskeeper finally gives up and takes his offer. “Thank you so much, Mr. Wayne. My head is pounding a lot.”

“Yes.” He guides Mr. Mendoza over to where Clark had stayed and as if he had read Bruce’s mind, Alfred is right there with him, holding an umbrella. “And don’t worry, Mr. Mendoza, this isn’t your fault and there will be no penalty. You’ll still have a job and no pay cut either. But if you do have a concussion, I don’t want you here until it’s gone. Take care of yourself first, Mr. Mendoza.”

“Yes, I will Mr. Wayne.” He shakes his hand. “Thank you again.”

Alfred then holds the umbrella above both of them and ushers him along. When they’re out of sight Clark comes up to him. “Come on, let’s go dry off.” He takes his hand and pulls him along, again in silence. When they reach Bruce’s bedroom, Bruce sheds off all his clothes except for his boxer briefs, and goes to lie on his stomach on his bed. His underwear is wet too, but he can’t be bothered to peel them off. His arms feel like Jell-O now that he’s in his bedroom and a bed is in sight. His eyes are shut before his head even hits the pillow and Bruce can hear Clark undressing somewhere in the room. Then there is some rummaging through the drawers. “Here, you should put these on if you don’t want to be naked.”

Bruce cracks an eye open and looks at the black underwear Clark is holding in front of him. He huffs and closes his eyes again. “Too tired.”

“Well,” Clark climbs on top of him, placing the underwear on his side table, and straddles his thighs. From the feel of it, Clark took all his clothes off including his own boxers and now currently has nothing on. “Bane did do a number on you.”

Bruce stiffens. He knows his body must be littered with deep black and blue, purple, bruises, especially his top half. He saw his abdomen had some pretty bad ones when he took his clothes off and can only imagine what his back looks like. “Really, I hadn’t noticed.”

Clark leans forward and places his hands on his shoulder blades. “You don’t need to be snarky.” He starts to continue his massage that he began outside and it causes Bruce to groan and relax a little.

“I think I have a right to be, considering I was just buried with my dead father.” He squeezes his eyes shut to cut off the flow of emotions but it’s not helping much.

Clark’s hands have stopped. “Are we going to talk about what happened?” Bruce doesn’t answer as he feels his heart rate increase against his best ability to calm it and his body starts to shake. Clark’s hands start moving and pressing again. “Are you going to be okay?” It’s the third time he’s asked him that today and it’s getting on Bruce’s nerves. He opens his mouth to retort that, of course, he’s going to be okay but instead of words a whimper escapes. Bruce feels Clark lean forward and press against his back, placing a kiss on the back of his neck right where the vertebra is. “It’s okay, you don’t need to answer, and you don’t need to think about it. It’s going to be okay, I promise.” Clark sits back up and resumes the massage.

Bruce turns his head into the mattress, feeling tears prickling in his eyes. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Clark again, in front of anyone else again for that matter. He doesn’t even want to cry when he’s alone. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, knowing Clark can hear him. “For almost getting you killed. I don’t know what I would have done if-”

He gasps in pain as Clark pushes a little too hard on one of the bruises. “Sorry,” he says and kisses the spot. When he continues, he says, “You don’t need to apologize about that. It wasn’t you who pulled the triggered.”

“It was still my plan,” he says, face still in the mattress.

“You explained yourself about that already,” Clark tries to reason.

He waits a second before saying, “Still...”

Clark sighs, not unlike how he did outside, and leans forward again. His lips press against Bruce’s ear and whispers, “Let me take care of you.” He kisses his ear and then starts to place kisses on his neck and all over his bruised back. “Let me make you feel good.” He works is way down, all the way to the small of his back. Clark hooks his fingers under the hem of his underwear and pulls them down, helping Bruce lift his hips in order to slip them off. They’re still wet so it feels good to have them off, even though the sheet is now wet where they were pressed against it.

Clark takes a hold of both his cheeks and spreads them, leaning down to press a kiss to his hole. When Clark moves onto licking him, Bruce groans, feeling himself grow hard. Clark stays there for a long time, at least that is what it seems like, just licking and probing, kissing and blowing air, onto his awaiting entrance. He does this until Bruce is fully relaxed, almost to the point of falling asleep and pleasantly hard between Bruce’s stomach and the mattress. He’s jolted awake from another blow of cool air against him but he stays relaxed, anticipating what is coming next.

Clark lets go of him and stretches across Bruce’s back in order to reach the side table where the lube currently sits in the top drawer. Bruce can feel Clark is hard too, stiff member pressing against the cleft of his ass. On his way back, Clark licks along his spine which drags a sigh out of Bruce. He hears the cap on the lube being popped open and the smear of it on long fingers. With one last kiss where he desperately wants to be filled, Clark slides a finger in. He goes slow, taking his time to enjoy the sounds that he produces from Bruce, and then finally, _finally,_ he adds another finger and then another until there are three fingers up his ass. Bruce keens with pleasure and tries to push back against those fingers but Clark holds his hips in place and makes small shushing sounds, trying to calm him back into a relaxed state. Bruce takes a deep breath, and releases all his muscles, all the tension that is there, and goes limp.

As soon as he is back to being relaxed, Clark pulls his fingers out and Bruce can’t hold back the whine, wanting something there to replace those magnificent appendages. Clark once again drapes himself across Bruce’s back and lies there, making sure not to put too much pressure on him. Bruce wouldn’t be surprised if he was floating slightly. “Shh, it’s okay, I’m going to take care of you.” Clark rubs and tucks his sweaty hair back behind his ear and then kisses his ear. Clark reaches between their bodies and pulls him apart with one hand and then guides his hard member into Bruce. He continues to go in, providing one long, slow drag. Bruce doesn’t remember hearing him lube himself up but he can feel that he did by how easy the slide is. Bruce moans at the feeling of being filled and his breathing speeds up just as Clark hits the hilt and is fully sheathed. Once all in, Clark lowers himself gently onto Bruce’s back and continues to whisper in his ear. “I’ve got you. Everything is going to be alright, I promise.”

He begins to move, pulling out only a little bit and then slowly pushing back in. He does this a few times before pulling out farther and then going back in at that still, agonizingly, slow pace. “Clark please.”

Clark kisses his neck and then sucks on his earlobe, rubbing the side of his face against the side of Bruce’s. They both are sweaty and their hair is sticking to them, but Clark doesn’t seem to care as he continues to rub, causing some of the hair to stick up. “Shh, I’m going to make you feel good, don’t worry. No more worrying.” He leans over and captures Bruce’s mouth, the drag of Clark’s tongue against his intoxicating. When they pull apart, both are panting heavily. “You don’t need to worry anymore tonight. Just for one night, just tonight, let go.”

Bruce sobs as Clark increases his speed of thrusts and Clark rests his sweaty forehead against the back of the base of his neck, puffing out pants that warm Bruce even more. Just as Bruce starts wondering how much more he can take, Clark lifts his hips up, the new angle shooting a new pleasure through his body and it causes him to shout at the feeling. Clark reaches between Bruce’s body and the mattress, sliding his hand to Bruce’s cock, and grabbing a hold of it to pump it in time with his thrusts. “Clark, Clark, oh gosh, Clark, please, _please_ ,” he’s panting vigorously, the imminent approach of his orgasm creeping up on him. When it hits, it’s amazing and Bruce’s body is flooded with a feeling of ecstasy, shuddering in Clark’s hold. When he comes down from the euphoria, he notices Clark has stilled in him, still hard. Clark pulls out and rubs at Bruce’s placid body, rubbing his back, the back of his legs, and then his arms as he crawls his way up to lie beside Bruce. Bruce watches him, glances down at his still hard cock, and tries to lift his arm to take it into his hand but his arm feels like a ton of bricks. “You haven’t... let me...” He can barely keep his eyes open.

Clark smiles warmly at him and runs his fingers through Bruce’s hair. “It’s okay; I don’t need to right now.”

Bruce leans into the feel of Clark’s hand on him. “But-”

Clark interrupts him. “Don’t worry about it,” he says softly. “I’m fine, you just rest now.” He leans forward and presses a kiss to the tip of his nose and then to his mouth. “Sleep.” Bruce still wants to protest but he’s too tired to, so he allows his eyes to flutter shut, enjoying the warm feeling of Clark’s hand through his hair. The last thing he hears before he’s out is a small, barely there whisper from Clark. “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
